I. Month-end, so you know. The usual omgeverythingisdueallatoncedoom.

II. I keep somehow managing to deliver what was promised despite the state of things and I am proud of that, but also wondering about the state of my innards given that things are what they are, and yet I keep my promises. Is that proof of something virtuous? Proof of something fucking traumatized? I don’t know. I know that I take great pride in delivering what I promise. Maybe because I’ve experienced the consequences of so many broken promises.

III. I keep my promises.

IV. I’m leaning on that being a virtue. If it isn’t, I’ll deal with it later.

V. I got slammed with a storm a few days ago. I was showing a friend a journal because I wanted her to see how I use the planner I’ve been designing. The journal fell open to a page upon which I’d pasted his photo – the one he sent to me back in February 2019. I said “I miss your face” and he responded with a photo of his face, cigarette dangling from his lip, snow falling down around him. There is a look in his eyes that is undeniably loving and tender, and when my eyes fell upon this image my whole body rose up. I felt all the things at once. Longing. Grief. Denial. Anger. My stomach flipped. Sounds came out of my mouth unbidden, and I clasped my hands to my face as if to stop them but they were an oncoming train and trains don’t stop on a dime. They just barrel on through with all their rattle and noise like storms.

VI. I’m still riding the wave of all of that. I miss him like summer.

VII. Meanwhile, I am wandering around the house adorned with silver nails and white chemises, doing my best to keep all my promises.

VIII. It’s been quite a row to hoe of late. I’m okay, and I am so grateful for so many things, but I am also just barely holding my guts in most days, so I do what I can, but I’m not inclined to push.

IX. I do what I can. It keeps my body and soul together, and I’m never hungry or hunted.

X. Haunted, though. That’s another story.

I miss you like summer.